Traced
by TamaraJagellovsk
Summary: Jonathan Pine keeps changing location, but there's always a way to track him down if only you try hard enough. Pine/male OC one shot


**La Réserve de Beaulieu, ****Hôtel & Spa**

**5 Boulevard du Maréchal Leclerc**

**Beaulieu-sur-Mer**

**France**

* * *

Jonathan Pine wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at that one name on the computer screen. Late night arrival, approximately 11 pm. It couldn't be a coincidence – he'd found him. Again. His heartbeat quickened and his palms turned sweaty. He checked the clock on the wall. 9:47. Officially he wasn't even on duty yet, not for another 13 minutes. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then he left the hotel by one of the back doors and leaned against the wall. He considered a cigarette for a moment but decided against it. He'd found him – even though it had taken him longer this time. All of a sudden he was restless. A glance at his watch told him he'd better go back inside. An hour left, maybe less.

When the hotel's door opened, Pine looked up from his usual place behind the front desk, all business, the hotelier's smile in place, suit and tie immaculate.

"Bon soir, monsieur," out of habit.

"Bon soir."

Right. Not a Frenchman. Pine switched to English.

"How may I help you?"

"I booked a room for three nights."

Pine handed him the paperwork. When the guest put down the pen, Pine asked, as he always did:

"Would you like me to show you to your room, sir?"

"Yes, please."

They rode in the elevator in complete silence, Pine carrying the small bag that was the guest's only luggage. He unlocked the door to the guest's room and held it open for him. The guest stepped past him. Pine followed him inside, turned to close the door and paused, his back to the guest. For a prolonged moment neither of them spoke. Then, standing very close, the guest said in a low voice:

"I tracked you down months ago."

* * *

Pine closed his eyes and swallowed.

"So why didn't you come sooner?"

The guest lightly put his hands on Jonathan's hips.

"Because I love it when you're hungry," he breathed, moving into him. Jonathan leaned back, his head falling against the other man's collarbone. They stood for a moment, and then the guest let go. Jonathan finally turned to look at him. He gave Jonathan an apologetic smile.

"Just kidding. There was one emergency after the other at the hospital. Every time I tried to get away something else came up."

He cocked his head a little to the side. His voice was very soft when he went on:

"I would have loved to come sooner, Jon."

He leaned in and gently kissed Jonathan, soft lips asking for permission. Jonathan closed his eyes and responded to the kiss, losing himself in its tenderness.

"God, I missed you, Stephen," he murmured before pulling back and slipping the hotelier's mask back on.

"I'll be downstairs in case you need anything," he said, polite, but distant. Stephen grinned.

"You're doing it on purpose."

"I have no idea what you mean."

Stephen was still grinning – and also half hard – when the door clicked shut behind Jonathan. Oh this would be good.

* * *

The next morning Pine had breakfast at the hotel like he sometimes did, hoping to catch Stephen, but he didn't show up. When he couldn't possibly linger any longer he went home but couldn't go to sleep. So he went for a run along the beach, partly because there was a fair chance of running into Stephen there, but the man was nowhere to be seen. When Pine came home he found a note in the mailbox:

_I'm not avoiding you. Or actually I am, but it's just for fun. Remember I like you hungry... And I bet you are by now. I know that because __I __am. Will be back soon. Don't go anywhere._

Pine took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. He realized he was drenched in sweat and desperately needed a shower. He cleaned up and debated jeans and a tee, but decided in favour of a fresh suit just in time before his doorbell rang. When he answered the door, Stephen greeted him with a friendly smile. Pine let him in and closed the door, and a moment later he found himself shoved against the wall of his hallway.

* * *

Stephen looked down at Jonathan's face with more tenderness than he'd felt for anyone in a long time.

"I almost saw you."

"Huh?"

"With every piece of clothing I took off, it felt like I was getting closer to the man you really are. Like peeling you out of your armour. And by the time you were naked I could almost see you. Almost."

Jonathan broke the eye contact.

"What are you hiding from, Jon?"

"Leave it, Stephen. Don't spoil it."

Jonathan propped himself up on one elbow and softly kissed Stephen.

"What we have is amazing. _You_ are amazing. Leave it at that."

And then he got up and put his suit back on, methodically, piece by piece, and Stephen could see him transform into the hotelier. Distant, professional, immaculate. Knowing what was underneath the armour made the look even more irresistible.

"Do you ever wear anything else?"

Jonathan grinned at him over his shoulder.

"Are you saying you don't like the suit?"

Stephen let out a small moan.

"Oh I do. Very much. Just curious."

"Meet me tomorrow morning. Eight?"

Stephen's eyebrows went up.

"Huh?"

"Breakfast. I promise I won't be wearing a suit."

* * *

When Pine entered the small cafe Stephen had a hard time picking his jaw off the floor. _Any man who can wear jeans and a plain white tee the way Jonathan Pine can is a piece of art_, he thought. The shirt was just tight enough to hint at Jonathan's build without showing off. And Stephen would make damn sure to leave _after _Jonathan - he suspected the jeans would provide a really, really nice view. Jonathan had sat down across the table and was grinning at him. Crap. Obvious much, doctor?

"I take it you like," Pine said, still grinning.

"I adore," Stephen answered, and he didn't even try to sound casual. "Come with me," he added after a moment. "Just for one night."

"I can't get away from work on such short notice."

"Please."

Jonathan bit his lip.

"I could try to call in a favor. I can't promise anything though."

Stephen beamed, and Jonathan thought it was cute.

* * *

Jonathan had worked a miracle and not only gotten a night off but also organised a room for two in a sweet little hotel in Juan-les-Pins, about an hour away from Nice. Stephen rented a car - actually Mr. Pine had rented it for the guest – and picked Jonathan up at his place. They drove in silence along the coastline, Jonathan looking out at the sea.

"Do you ever get tired of it? The view, the beaches, all those wonderful places? Or don't you get to see them?"

"I always make sure I know everything about the place I work at. Guests expect us to make recommendations."

Stephen snorted.

"Oh come on. All work and no play? Really?"

Jonathan's features softened.

"It _is _stunningly beautiful," he admitted, turning to Stephen with a smile. "Let's enjoy it."

"Yes. Let's do that."

* * *

Once they were alone in their hotel room Stephen looked at Jonathan. Tracing those first class cheekbones with his thumbs he murmured:

"So how do you want it, Jonathan? You in the mood for fluff or kink?"

A little moan esacped Jonathan and he rushed out:

"Oh please give me a little kink!"

Stephen slowly, deliberately undid Jon's tie, and then he took a step back. Jonathan Pine in his trademark three piece suit minus the tie.

"Close your eyes."

He did, and Stephen used the tie to blindfold him. Jon's whole posture changed the moment his eyesight was taken from him. Stephen slid Jon's suit jacket off his shoulders and rolled up his sleeves. A steel cuff clicked shut around one wrist. Another one around the other. Stephen ran his hands over Jon's shoulders.

"Spread your arms, beautiful," Stephen murmured, and Jon did. The free ends of the cuffs clicked shut and held Jon's arms apart, wide enough to be borderline painful. His knees buckled, but he caught himself.

"Are you OK?" Stephen whispered.

"Yes."

Jon's voice was low and throaty, and the sound went straight to Stephen's groin. Jon in a waistcoat, which accentuated his slender waist and broad shoulders, arms spread, eagerly waiting to be touched. Stephen unbuttoned Jon's waistcoat and shirt, never touching bare skin in the process.

"Please," Jon sounded like a man undergoing torture. "Give me something. Anything."

Stephen just grinned.

"No tee? You used to wear a tee underneath your suit of armour."

"That was Montreal in winter. South of France in summer? No tee."

"I like the South of France."

Stephen knelt, his face close enough for Jon to feel the warmth of his breath, but still no touch. And then he was gone. He stood and gently touched Jon's wrist.

"You're starting to bruise. I'll take off the cuffs."

"No! Please don't. Leave them on."

Stephen hesitated.

"I wear long sleeves all the time!"

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Please. I want them as a memento."

Stephen hesitated for a moment.

"One condition."

"Anything you want," Jon breathed.

"Tomorrow, at breakfast, you'll wear short sleeves. Every time I look at your hands, and believe me, I do that a lot... I'll remember what you let me do to you."

* * *

"Remember Grand Canary?"

From where he was laying on the bed, Stephen had been looking at Jonathan – sitting on their little balcony – for a while now.

Jonathan looked up from his book.

"Of course I do. You were trying to talk me into letting you into the pool after hours."

Stephen laughed out.

"Really? That's the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"That was the first time we met."

Stephen grinned.

"It was the first time you _noticed_ me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'd been looking at you for a good while before that, Jon."

Jonathan closed his book and stood. He came in and lay down on the bed next to Stephen.

"Is that true," he said thoughtfully, turning towards the other man. He moved closer, holding himself up above Stephen. "And how do you know I didn't notice that?"

Stephen looked up at him, his eyes darker than usual. He swallowed.

"Did you?"

Jonathan grinned and moved in for a kiss, a long, slow, gentle touch that Stephen thought wasn't nearly enough.

"I hate it when you play Mystery Man With A Dark Past."

"No you don't," Jonathan breathed, one hand moving down Stephen's body. "And besides, I'm not playing."


End file.
